


i just hope you see me in a little better light

by vangoghstars



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Deceit Sanders Angst, Deceit Sanders-centric, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Spoilers for Episode: Putting Others First: Selfishness vs. Selflessness Redux, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, what can i say im a dark sides apologist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vangoghstars/pseuds/vangoghstars
Summary: In the beginning, Deceit was in love with Creativity. Remus immediately trusts him for a reason he can’t remember, and Roman, well Roman is so much like the king Deceit lost.**SPOILERS FOR PUTTING OTHERS FIRST**
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit Sanders, King Creativity/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 14
Kudos: 227





	i just hope you see me in a little better light

**Author's Note:**

> i got very into sanders sides this week and cranked this baby out in a day. please enjoy and I will be back with more angst about this series I cannot stop thinking about the new episode. 
> 
> please come talk to me about sanders sides on Tumblr my Tumblr is @hwfflepwff I have nobody to talk to abt this and so many ideas
> 
> title is from "to be so lonely" by harry styles which is my absolute favorite song from the fine line album

Before there was anyone else, there were Deceit and Morality. They didn’t have names back then, because Thomas hadn’t quite yet learned how to talk well enough for that. Deceit kept his hands and ambitions bare. He wanted so badly for Thomas to be someone important, to mean something in this world.

Morality had taken quite a shine to Thomas’ parents. He clung to their lessons, to their assurances that Thomas was a good kid. He watched Thomas’ brothers get scolded for breaking a window and trodding in the flowers in the yard. He was, in essence, developing a checklist of right and wrong.

(There was a third, but he didn’t leave the corner of Thomas’ mind. He used to show up a lot when Thomas was still a baby. He would never tell them what he wanted. Morality didn’t like him very much. He was just so _loud_.)

And then, when Thomas couldn’t have been much more than three years old, the others showed up.

Logic didn’t really like him, and he didn’t really like Logic. Logic tended to side with Morality more often than he dared to admit. He would claim that “no, Thomas shouldn’t seek revenge on that idiot who pushed him on the playground, because then he would get in trouble, and that would not be very beneficial to Thomas’ education,” but revenge sounded pretty logical to Deceit. You know, as long as they didn’t get caught.

But it’s fine, Deceit didn’t have to win this one. It’s just that he didn’t win any of them.

And then Creativity showed up.

He was just as wild as he was smart, and his wit made him fascinating to Deceit. Sure, Logic and Morality tolerated Deceit, but Creativity was the first one to ever choose Deceit’s company.

“Want to play ‘the floor is lava’ with us?” he had asked once. He only ever spoke in what Deceit would later learn is called the “royal we.” It had been a particularly taxing day for Deceit, as Thomas had spent over an hour deciding whether or not to tell his mom about the lamp he broke only to have Shea rat him out anyway (Deceit was on team “don’t tell.” Not that it mattered very much when he had both Logic and Morality against him. There were two people lurking in the corner. One of them, he found out later, called himself “Anxiety.” Deceit spent his energy deliberately not looking over there.) No one had ever asked _Deceit_ to play a game before. At best, the others just sort of avoided him.

Creativity took him into a place called the Imagination, and it was beautiful. It was the oddest mix of serene and twisted. A divine balance.

Creativity was the best at bedtime stories. He could spin you a tale out of even the smallest hint of an idea. He came up with amazing villains and glorious heroes. Deceit always liked the stories best where the villain and the hero would fall in love and run away to live together.

Morality did not. Morality’s favorite stories were the ones where the good guy vanquished the bad guy. When Creativity told stories in the common room, they were always those ones. He always looked so disappointed by the end of it, though.

Creativity never asked Deceit for anything, so Deceit offered him the world.

“Run away with me,” he said one night. “We can go live in the Imagination together.” Thomas would have been about five.

“Deceit, they’re- We would love to, more than anything, but…”

He trailed off, brown eyes glancing back towards Deceit’s door. They were sitting in Deceit’s room drawing a story of a brave knight falling in love with the dragon he’s supposed to kill.

If Deceit was sad, only his brown eye showed it. The yellow one stared unblinking. Creativity focused on that one.

“They’re your friends,” Deceit said. “But what about me?”

“Of course you’re our friend! Why would you even-”

“It’s okay,” Deceit said. “Nobody around here likes me much anyway.”

“No, Deceit- We- Look,” he said, and grasped Deceit’s hands in his. His skin was warm against the yellow gloves. “Our name is Romulus.”

Deceit started. “Are we- We’re _allowed_ to have names?” It was half a question and half a revelation.

“The others do,” Romulus said, voice soft and shameful.

They didn't tell Deceit, but that was just par for the course.

“Oh,” Deceit said. He felt the smallest he ever had. He wondered if it was possible to shrink down so small you vanish.

“Morality is Patton and Logic is Logan.”

“Oh,” Deceit parroted. So that is what being trusted felt like.

“You need one,” Romulus said, and it was not a question. It was a lifeline in a storm. “How about… Janus. God of crossroads and choices.”

“I love it,” Janus said, and he was not lying.

That night, Romulus vanished. Janus searched the Imagination for hours. All he found was a kid with bright red eyes dressed in green and black.

“Remus,” he said when Janus asked his name. Janus did not cry.

“Okay, Remus,” he said instead. “Let’s go home.”

\--

Janus is not having the worst day ever. He’s not, and if you ask him he’ll tell you that. He just hasn’t left his room because… it’s too warm out.

Remus had left him a pile of stale cookies at the door. It was weird to have someone trust you so completely for no reason that they remember. Janus doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.

So maybe it’s not the worst day ever, but it certainly is in the top three, because Janus had been working _so hard_ to get Thomas to just go to that callback, and Roman just up and ruined the whole thing. Like he doesn’t know that it’s already exhausting to be around Roman due to the sheer similarities to Romulus. Which he actually doesn’t know. Remus may have inherited Romulus’ trust of Janus, but Roman inherited the bulk of the similarities. Roman has no trust of Janus.

And that’s fine, honestly, because Janus is not helplessly in love with Romulus. Which frankly, is stupid, because neither twin has the memories of Romulus or even the ability to become Romulus again, so Janus can just spend the rest of his life sulking and missing his friend. That’s cool.

Maybe it’s good that Roman hates him. It would be worse if he didn’t.

Virgil doesn’t trust him, which is fine with Janus. He gets it, he’s a handful, and not particularly easy to get along with, so Virgil can sit and sulk in the juror’s booth and pretend to be one of them. What are they calling themselves these days? Light sides?

He guesses Dark Side has kind of a cool ring to it.

Logan and Patton are the same. They remember him and remember hating him, but they haven’t really bothered to see how the past 25 years have changed him. That’s fine with Janus. He’s got all the friends he needs.

He has a family of his own now, after all. One of them still hides in the corner. That’s okay. He will show up on his own time.

Remus is a lovable handful. He still possesses all of the eccentricities of Romulus with very little of the personality. He’s made himself into something new. Janus can respect that.

It was Remus who was torn from Roman. It is Roman who maintains the essence of Romulus. It gets harder and harder for Janus to ignore that fact.

“I just _love_ you, Roman,” he told Roman in the courtroom. When Roman had flushed red, Janus pretended it didn’t hurt.

It does.

The next time he sees Roman is worse. It is everything Janus secretly fears, because there is something close to recognition in Roman’s green eyes when Janus says his name. And then it’s gone, replaced by anger and scorn. When he leaves and Patton follows, Janus does not.

It’s better this way, he reminds himself. Janus is only a nuisance.

He didn’t expect Roman to end up at his door. He didn’t expect to ever see Roman again.

Roman’s cookies aren’t stale, and they have walnuts in them, which are Janus’ favorites. It’s silly that being with Roman feels like knowing you’re almost at the summit of the mountain.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” Roman says, green eyes staring down at Janus’ covered hands. “Ever. But I just wanted to bring you these. I’m so sorry, Janus.”

It’s a whisper, barely even that. A regret and a promise.

“Your brother is not a bad person, even if his cookies are stale. To call him evil, and to call you evil, that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry, Roman.”

The name feels weird in his mouth. They named Rome after Romulus, didn’t they?

“Can I come in?”

Janus hesitates for a while. No one except Remus and Virgil had ever been in there before.

“Yeah. You may not like what you find,” he says, cracking a smile.

He steps back, and Roman enters the room. It’s hauntingly familiar.

Roman takes a moment to look at the room. His eyes fall on the drawing tacked up to the wall. Any lines on the page are wobbly like they were drawn by someone young, but it’s clearly a prince and a dragon falling in love.

“Did you…?” Roman asks, and Janus understands the question anyway.

“And old friend,” he answers.

“It looks familiar,” Roman says, tilting his head to look at the picture.

“It shouldn’t,” Janus responds.

“Were you lying that day in the courtroom?” Roman asks.

“I lie a lot. You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“About loving me.”

“Oh,” Janus says, and his mouth closes with a soft click. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Roman responds. “Okay. Wait, is that-”

“Half a lie,” Janus says. “I was in love with the person who drew that. Maybe I still am. He was the only person who ever listened to me.”

Roman studies the photo again. “Romulus,” he says, and it shakes Janus.

“I was one of the first sides to be born,” Janus says. “I remember the day you split.”

“Then you know who did it,” Roman says, but it’s more of a question than anything.

“No,” Janus lies. “I found Remus in the imagination shortly after.”

“I can’t be Romulus again, Janus,” Roman says, and now he’s looking at the side of Janus’ face that is facing him. Janus doesn’t have the strength to turn to meet his gaze.

“I know,” Janus says, and he’s not sure if it’s a lie.

“You’re in love with a ghost,” Roman says, and it stings in the way only the truth can.

“Yes,” Janus says, and it’s not a lie. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for.

“Tell me about him,” Roman says. “I’d love to hear.”

Janus tells him about Romulus. In exchange, Roman tells him a story about a handsome prince falling in love with the charming lawyer who dressed in yellow and black.


End file.
